New Wings
by Oblivion772
Summary: Sephiroth is found outside of bevelle, and before he knows what happens, he is traveling with three other men who bring up memories he had lost, all on a journey to save the world from Sin. Will it end with tradgedy? Or will Sephiroths presence be able to change history?


New Wings Revisited.

Chapter One; Off the Coast of Bevelle.

The lifestream really was a boring place. Not that he had nothing to do, but rather, that while in the lifestream, he essentially lost the ability to feel boredom, along with the rest of his emotions, although he had only really felt indifference towards most things. Excluding Cloud and Mother.

But the lifestream is a holy being, and one of such pure emptiness, hatred even, cannot reside within it's depths without being affected. The lifestream is meant to be a place for the dead to live out their afterlives, while simultaneously providing life to the world through their energy. It's meant to be a collection of the world's memories and feelings.

Sephiroth did not belong, and he knew it. And he didn't care.

His ambition for a new world was still eating at his soul, continuing to corrode away rational thoughts, leaving him only a dangerous being, to be left alone, never to be spoken of, to never seek out.

He was left to stew in his own mind, left to his own cruel and fatalistic designs. Designs that would do no good to anyone. But there was nothing to be done. Sephiroths soul was torn to shreds years ago, the day that he had gone into that mansion, the day that no one could have predicted the dire consequences.

Was it so weird then, that when a sudden and unknown sensation broke through the haze, that Sephiroth panicked? That he fought against his bonds and tried to break free? The only thing he managed to catch before it all faded away, was a glimpse of blue-white hair…

* * *

A jolt, and a body flung itself up from the sand, wide teal eyes scanning the beach in front of him. Water lapped softly at the sand that was currently sticking itself onto the long leather coat perfectly folded beneath his fallen form. Something seemed off about everything. Like he wasn't actually seeing this, or like something was…different. But what? For the life of him, he couldn't remember why none of this seemed familiar.

Still, he shook his head and pulled himself up from the sand beneath him, running a hand through his long hair, only to withdraw it in dismay, wet sand sticking onto both his hair and his hand. With a soft sigh, he turns around, met with the sight of a city further in coast. "Hm…" He hums thoughtfully, gazing at the city that seemed small for some reason. He knew that it was likely larger than it looks, but he just can't bring himself to be impressed.

There seemed to be just nothing in the fore front of his mind as he made his way to the city. Because there is nothing, he could not bring himself to panic. He couldn't bring himself to question it. How would one know when something is wrong if they had no memories to compare it to after all? The simple answer is that there was no way for them to know. How would they compare their own mind to that of the normal man if they did not know what that was.

There was something drawing him towards the city though, something about it seemed to tell him that it was safer there than where he had just been. After all, the human nature is to recoil from danger, and the danger of the unknown may, after all, be the strongest.

Again running a hand through his hair, trying to get some of the sand out, as it pressing against his scalp was quite uncomfortable, he comes to what looks like an open gate, two guards watching him in curiosity, and perhaps a bit of reproach. After all, not many people around here looked like him. The thing most throwing them off were the eyes. They had never seen such piercing, glowing eyes before. And yet they looked blank, eyes that were lost, almost. Perhaps this is the only reason that they did not stop him as he stepped past them. Perhaps it was because of the intimidating air that seemed to revolve around him.

Either way, Sephiroth payed them no more mind than he would have if they had wished him a nice visit. He was too busy in watching the city move around him. A city that was strangely unfamiliar, not a single thing seemed like he knew it, but then again, he didn't even feel familiar with his own body right now.

The city was really quite unimpressive. Small buildings, and even smaller crowds of people navigating their way through the streets. Although, Sephiroth doesn't know why he feels this way. There are certainly many more people here than there were on the beach. And yet, he feels almost at home navigating his way through the masses of uncaring citizens. Like he's done it before.

Not even the strange looks that the citizens give him seem out of place. Many people so far had glanced at him, probably confused by the mass of long, still soaked and sand covered hair hanging as elegantly as a dead rodent from his head.

What was he meant to do here? Sephiroth stops to ask himself, although not stopping his way down the roads before him. "I suppose the first course of action would be to find out where I am…" Sephiroth softly mutters to himself, glancing around the crowds for any such person that appears to be stilled.

Slowly, his eyes come to fall on a dark skinned man, walking slowly, although not deliberately…and shirtless. But that did not matter to Sephiroth. He was gaining intel, and why would he care who he got it from?

And so, once again he weaves his way through the crowd, quickly catching up to the man who now had a peculiar bitter scent following him. Ignoring it, Sephiroth places a hand on the man's shoulder, the man whipping around immediately to face him. "Do you know the name of this city." Sephiroth says more than asks.

"Fuck no!" He yells, shoving Sephiroth's hand off of his shoulder, the currently clueless former hero looking almost shocked. "And even if I did, the hell'd I tell you?!"

Sephiroth sighs, turning away to avoid a confrontation as a man in the crowd shakes his head. "Filthy drunk." The man says, the drunk whirling around once more.

"The fuck did you just call me?!" He yells, tackling Sephiroth to the ground shortly after. "Who the hell do you think you are to go 'round judgin' ME?! JECHT?!"

"I said nothing of the sort!" Sephiroth responds, catching a sloppily thrown fist in his hand.

"Don't you fuckin' lie to me!" The newly named Jecht roars, seemingly more angry about this than anything before, kneeing Sephiroth in the side from his position straddling the silver haired man's waist that would seem sexual if it weren't for the knee buried in one of their stomachs.

Sephiroth growls in annoyance, shoving Jecht off of him, quickly standing up before holding his side with what might be a slight wince.

He hardly had time to wonder what's going on, though, as Jecht continues what could only be classified as a drunken assault. Though this time, Sephiroth finally seems to react to what's happening, catching the much tanner fist before throwing forward one of his own.

Surely he didn't expect Jecht to bend over in pain, hardly able to hold back the many beverages he had downed. For one who does not know anything, they must take what they know from their surroundings, or their instinctive actions. And so Sephiroth had assumed that a fist was a low form of physical harm. And yet here this man is, ready to keel over, hardly able to continue on his way as he charges forward to- what?

Sephiroth's thoughts are immediately cut off as a broad shoulder rams into his chest once more. "Get off of me!" Sephiroth yells, throwing the heavier man off of him and desperately looking for something to throw at him, the crowd around them starting to panic when Jecht goes flying into the crowd, almost taking a woman and child with him.

"Shut yer trap, ya damn prick!" Jecht retorts once more as he stumbles up, using the aforementioned kid as a hold before running forward again.

"I did nothing to you!" Sephiroth tries to reason as the drunk gets more speed behind him. With as distraught a sound as he could manage, Sephiroth tosses a red gem from his pocket, having been the only thing on his person.

"The hell's that supposed to do, huh?!" Jecht roars in mirth as the gem lands in front of him, dashing past it within seconds. "I'm the almighty-!" He begins, an explosion sending him forward, a look of pure shock on everyone's face when the gem erupts into fire.

"Everyone back!" A deep voice roars, a multitude of soldiers running into the clearing, Jecht looking up from his place on the floor, and Sephiroth looking over, lowering his hands from where he had risen them in a feeble and unneeded act of protection. "Hands up, now!" The soldier with the most ornate armour yells, holding a spear to the two brawlers.

"I-" Sephiroth begins, holding his hands out as though that would stop them or have them listen to him.

"Hands up!" The soldier yells again, putting extra stress on his words and moving his spear even closer.

"This ain't over!" Jecht yells, tackling Sephiroth from behind, only getting a face full of silver hair.

"Mages!" The soldier yells, the few mages behind him shouting affirmatives and launching sleep spells at the two combatants.

* * *

It was 11 hours later when Sephiroth first arose, seeing little more than a dank ceiling and large shafts of light separated by small lines of shadow, there was only one thing that came to mind.

"Where…am I?"

A/N

Oh my glob! I am so sorry about abandoning this fic! But see, there were so many errors in it! And not to mention it was poorly written, and a bad case of writers block, so I came back and rewrote chapter one, well, part of chapter one. I'm going to try and move it along more slowly this time. Well, what do you think? If you guys are still there that is, I don't blame you if you left.


End file.
